Be Happy
by Laurel4
Summary: Set long after GF&A...a loose end from M*A*S*H 4077's past is finally tied up. Thanks to HM Writer for giving me the idea.
1. Chapter One: Sister Naomi

"...Be Happy"  
  
A/N: My first M*A*S*H fic, set twenty-some years post-GF&A. That's a lot of time, so I decided that I liked Beth Mott's account so much of the crew's lives as of 1963 (http://www.geocities.com/beth_mott/reunion.html) that I'd go by it here and just fast-forward ten years, rather than take up time and space thinking of (and explaining) a different account. Thanks again to HM Writer for the inadvertent inspiration, and to iolanthe for the description of the convent in her story. ...Oh, yeah, and what I know about convents, monasteries, etc. could fit in a thimble, so I hope it's not too inaccurate.  
  
Chapter 1: Sister Naomi  
  
The year was 1975, and though he'd been home from Korea for over twenty years, Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy still wore the same hat, now worn, faded, and slightly misshapen. His face was lined, his glasses thicker, his hair graying, and--of course--part of his hearing was gone (though he wasn't bad at lip-reading after twenty-two years, which helped him quite a bit sometimes), but he strode as energetically as ever along a familiar path--that leading to the entrance of the convent where Sister Maria Angelica--his real-life, blood-relative sister--lived. She had asked him to come at once, but would not tell him why, though she assured him that it was no emergency.  
  
He reached the entrance and removed his hat as a pale young nun--she could not have been more than twenty--escorted him to his sister. As was often the case, his sister was in the convent's central courtyard. Her back was to him, currently bent a bit to water a bed of roses that still bloomed, here in early October. Beside her, kneeling in the bit of dirt at the edge of the bed, was another figure in nun's attire, smaller, listening attentively as Maria Angelica instructed her in the ways of flora.  
  
"Your brother, Sister Maria Angelica," Father Mulcahy's young attendant said cheerily.  
  
The nun turned around. "Francis! I'm so sorry, I was just--" She trailed off as she abandoned the rosebed to greet him.  
  
"That's all right, Katherine," Mulcahy said, calling her by her real name as he embraced her. "That's a lovely rosebed."  
  
"Yes, we've all enjoyed tending it," the Sister replied, speaking loudly, as was of course necessary. "You're looking very well. The bronchitis didn't keep you down for long, I see. I was hoping you'd be well enough to come."  
  
"Oh, that," Mulcahy said dismissively, waving his hand. "Gone days ago. So...what is it that you wanted to tell me?"  
  
"Well, not tell, exactly, but *show*," came the cryptic reply. For the first time, Maria Angelica gestured toward the girl that had been helping her with the flowers. The girl was still kneeling, but was now looking over her shoulder in curiosity at Father Mulcahy. Now he saw her face and realized that she was Korean. She was very pretty, with large eyes that looked poetic even from where he was standing, a short distance away. There was something about her face, though--something different than normal Korean faces--that twitched something in the back of his head. There was something it made him start to remember--but what?  
  
But Maria Angelica continued, distracting him from further analysis of the unfamiliar face. "Well, get up, Sister Naomi. This is my brother-- come and meet him. I've brought him here to see you."  
  
Quickly the girl got up and brushed herself off, seeming surprised to hear that this visitor was also for her. She came over and stood before him. Maria Angelica addressed her. "This is Father Francis Mulcahy. He served in the Korean War--and lost part of his hearing there, too, so you'll have to speak up." Priest and nun exchanged polite greetings, each still wondering why Maria Angelica was introducing them.  
  
"I imagine that you were a chaplain in Korea," Sister Naomi said. "Did you serve at battle sites?"  
  
Father Mulcahy shook his head. "No, I was with a surgical hospital--a M*A*S*H unit, the 4077th. I ministered to recuperating soldiers...well, when I wasn't performing last rites, helping local orphans, assisting with surgery, conducting services that hardly anyone came to, holding confessions, playing piano, or trying to smooth out conflicts within the unit." He smiled a bit wryly as Naomi's eyes widened, and she shyly smiled back.  
  
"You also brought an abandoned child to a monastery," added Angelica, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"Oh, you remember my mentioning that? Yes, a baby was left outside a tent that three of our surgeons shared. We did everything we could to get her to the States, but it was no use--neither the Army nor the Red Cross nor anyone else would cooperate. We ended up leaving her in a monastery not far away, trying to save her from the misery she would have endured as a child of mixed--" Suddenly he trailed off, his eyes narrowing for a second as he stared at Naomi--then widening in recognition and shock. That was it-- what he was trying to remember! Naomi's face *was* different from most Koreans'--it was *half-American*...  
  
He turned to Maria Angelica, startled. "Sis...you mentioned the baby...can this be...?"  
  
She nodded, smiling softly. "Naomi, my brother Francis helped care for you before you were put into the monastery in Korea."  
  
Naomi stared at Maria Angelica, then at Mulcahy. "He did?"  
  
"But for that one little girl to be sent to *this* convent is a chance in a thousand--can you be sure?" Father Mulcahy asked.  
  
Maria Angelica nodded again. "She's only been here a month. Just a few days ago we were talking about her past, and she told me she had spent much of her life in a monastery in Korea...and then she told me where, and what year she was born. She was the only girl her age there--the nearest one was three years older, and would have been born too soon. Apparently, of all the half-Korean children born that year, she was the only female one to end up there. The monks had told her the date that they had received her into the monastery, and it checked out with the letter you sent me back then. She was originally named Sek Lin, but one of the monks called her Naomi out of affection. She's been called that since she came here as a nun."  
  
Father Mulcahy and Sister Naomi regarded each other again, each as surprised as the other. Finally Naomi looked back at Maria Angelica. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"  
  
"I only realized it a short time ago...and I suppose I wanted it to be a surprise." Maria Angelica replied, blushing a bit. "I meant no harm."  
  
"Oh, and you gave none!" said Naomi emphatically, and took one of Father Mulcahy's hands in both of hers. "Tell me, sir--Father--these three surgeons you speak of," she began earnestly, "who are they? Until now I've had no knowledge of anyone who took care of me before my arrival at the monastery. I would like to know their names, even if they do not remember me or do not wish to see me."  
  
"They most certainly *would* wish to see you, and I know they'll remember you. I must tell them as soon as I can! But it was more than just those three that cared for you. The surgeons' names are Hawkeye--well, *Benjamin*, really--Pierce, B.J. Hunnicutt, and Charles Winchester--well, that's the short version of his name, anyway. But there was also our colonel, Sherman Potter; our head nurse, Margaret Houlihan; and our company clerk, Max Klinger, not to mention the other nurses, whom we've unfortunately lost track of. Everyone was very unwilling to give you up. We wanted you here in the States right away."  
  
"A whole hospital watched me!" Naomi said in amazement. "Please, Father, tell me everything! What were they like, and how long was I there?"  
  
Sister Maria Angelica rolled her eyes skyward, but smiled. "Stories like that will take an hour at least, I'm sure. The two of you are going to need a couple of chairs--and so will I; I never mind hearing your war stories, Francis. Go ahead, there's no hurry. I'll get the chairs, and you can tell her everything." 


	2. Chapter Two: Telephone Hour

Chapter 2: Telephone Hour  
  
"Ben!" called Hawkeye's father from the kitchen. "Telephone for you! I think it's Francis Mulcahy."  
  
"The Father?" asked Margaret, who was at the counter, cleaning up the kitchen after dinner as her daughters washed the dishes. "I get the phone after you, Ben."  
  
Hawkeye abandoned his relaxation in front of the television to take the call. "Hello? ...Well, hi, Father, it's great to hear from you! ...Sit down? Why, is something wrong? ...Nothing? Okay..." With a shrug to his family members, who were listening in interest to the Crabapple Cove side of the conversation, Hawkeye pulled a chair from the table and sat down in it. "Okay, I'm sitting. Let me have it." Hawkeye listened--and suddenly sat forward in his chair. "...You *what*? *Where*? ...*Ya-haaah!*" This last word was a shrill, delighted cry that made Becky and Beth turn and stare, abandoning their dishrags and towels to devote their full attention to the strange goings-on. "I can't believe it! She's really here! Father, I'm going to kiss that nun sister of yours, chastity vow or no chastity vow! For twenty years I've wondered where she was and whether she was okay, and now she's *here*! ...Well, of course! We'll come!"  
  
"Ben!" burst in Margaret finally. "Who on earth are you talking about?"  
  
"Hold on, Father," Hawkeye said, and covered the phone with one hand to speak to Margaret. "The half-Korean baby girl, the one we took care of back during the war and gave to the monastery--she's *here*, and she's met Father Mulcahy! Well, she's here in America, not in Crabapple Cove, but--"  
  
"Give me that phone!" Margaret cut in, running over and snatching the receiver from her husband's hand. "Father? It's Margaret! I just can't believe it! How is she? ...Well, of course! We've all thought of her so often--it's just incredible to know--I'm sorry, what? ...Well, of course we'll come! Just tell us when!"  
  
"You told us about that girl once, Dad," Becky piped up. "So she's really here!"  
  
"Yes, she is, and as soon as we get the date, the whole family's going to meet her. Gosh, she must be twenty and more by now..." He trailed off, barely able to restrain himself from getting out of his chair and jumping up and down. Three children of his own had been, of course, joy beyond joy...but suddenly it seemed like he'd found a long-lost fourth.  
  
"But what about school?" asked Becky, as Beth turned to scowl at the sensible older sibling.  
  
"Oh, it's just for a weekend. Leave on Friday, stay Saturday, come back late Sunday. Where's that Benjamin John, anyway? Still playing baseball at Scott McDermott's house? Well, when he comes back, I'll tell him, too. It'll be all six of us--that is, if you want to come, too, Dad."  
  
"Of course," said the elder Doctor Pierce. "I wouldn't miss it."  
  
By the end of the night, the details were planned. It wasn't quite so easy for some to get to Pennsylvania as others, but a weekend not far away was finally set where the Pierces, Hunnicutts, Klingers, Winchesters, and Potters could convene with Father Mulcahy and Sisters Maria Angelica and Naomi.  
  
"See, Naomi? Just what I told you," Father Mulcahy said the next day, coming back to visit his sister and the girl. "They're all coming to see you, and they couldn't be more thrilled. But there's so many that we'll be taking you to a hotel in New York City, like our families did when they had the party for us. Ask my sister; she remembers."  
  
"That I do. I met all the relatives of everyone Francis lived with."  
  
"New York City!" breathed Sister Naomi, excited and startled together. "All I've seen of the outside world is that small patch of Korea and part of Philadelphia. ...And everyone's going to be there? Everyone you mentioned in all your stories, like the one who wanted to adopt the Korean boy Kim-- Trapper John, was it?" Naomi had loved the story, and had been happy for Kim but sad for Trapper when she found out that his mother came for him in the end.  
  
"It was him, yes, but Trapper won't be coming, no. Just those who were there when you were there."  
  
Naomi's face fell for a minute, but she nodded. "I see."  
  
Mulcahy's sister shrugged. "Well, why, Francis? It's high time for a reunion weekend anyway, and this certainly qualifies as an occasion. Why not invite them, too?"  
  
She was referring to the former M*A*S*Hers' newest custom, adopted only a few years ago--a weekend, taken about every three months, where as many as could make it got together for a day to celebrate a specific occasion--a birthday of one of their crew, a notable event, et cetera. Families could be brought along or left at home, as the doctor-nurse-or- otherwise chose. Real reunions were less frequent, and much bigger affairs. Everyone heard about those months in advance and planned their lives around them, but reunion weekends, like this one, were more spontaneously called.  
  
Sister Naomi looked up hopefully at Maria Angelica's suggestion--then tried to conceal her excitement. But Mulcahy smiled and shrugged. "You're right. There are two weeks still until the date we set. Why not?"  
  
So it was that Trapper John McIntyre was added to the group--the others had conflicts and simply couldn't be there, but sent their greetings to Naomi once they heard her story. (Radar nearly sent one of his family's many young pet rabbits as a present, too, but remembered in time that the convent wouldn't have approved.) The two weeks passed slowly, but were finally over. All were ready for New York and the reunion weekend. 


	3. Chapter Three: Yessir, That's Our Baby

Chapter Three: Yessir, That's Our Baby  
  
Naomi had never seen--nor even fathomed--so big, majestic, and crowded a place as New York, New York. The trip there had been long, but entertaining--Father Mulcahy had driven the three of them over the hilly Pennsylvania roads, telling everything he could remember from his days in Korea, sometimes telling the same stories over again at Naomi's request. She was absolutely fascinated by every aspect of the M*A*S*H unit and the semi-psychotic inhabitants thereof--it was clear that she considered them the closest thing to family she had, apart from possibly the monks who had raised her, and she wanted to know everything she could about them before she met them.  
  
But the stories had stopped when they reached New York and had to maneuver through its snail-paced traffic. Driving kept Father Mulcahy busy, but Naomi fell silent for a different reason. The city awed her with its sky-high office buildings, huge stores, and teeming population, and seemed surreal and dreamlike. She could hardly think coherently, as though her mind had shorted out from overload. It frightened her a bit, but excited her, too.  
  
Finally, however, suitable parking was found, and the three walked a short distance--accosted by various street vendors all the way--to the hotel and into the large room set aside for their mini-reunion.  
  
Naomi tried to smile, but found herself shrinking back, when every head in the room--and there were seventeen of those so far--turned to stare at her as the three of them walked in. No one said a word.  
  
Then a thinnish, tallish man in what was left of an ancient Hawaiian shirt, with gray hair beginning to turn silver, stepped over, three preteen- to-teenage children trailing behind. He took Naomi's hand in one of his and passed his other one slowly along her cheek. "Sister Naomi," he said quietly, steadily, "my name is Benjamin Franklin Pierce. You can call me Hawkeye."  
  
Naomi stared up at him--then threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him. They stayed like that for a full ten seconds, both realizing that they had expected to be laughing when this moment came, but instead were choking up. Naomi drew back and finally broke into a wide, incredulous smile...then a laugh, one that Hawkeye joined in with. "It's wonderful to see you again," Hawkeye said, embracing her once more, as though to make sure it was true.  
  
"You always did try to keep her all to yourself," came a voice behind. "Let us have our fun, too!" Hawkeye turned around to find Margaret standing behind him.  
  
"My apologies," Hawkeye said to Naomi. "This is Margaret Houlihan Pierce, and no matter what you've heard about us, you should know that I finally *did* learn that it's best to do as she says." He gave her a roguish grin and stepped aside as Margaret embraced Naomi in her turn. "The Potters aren't here yet," Margaret informed her. "They called a while ago-- their plane was delayed, but they're coming, believe me. It shouldn't be long."  
  
The young nun moved to the middle of the room and met all the Pierces one by one, surprising the three children by knowing their names. Then came the Hunnicutts. Greeted especially warmly were Erin Williamson--formerly Hunnicutt--and her husband Christopher, whose personality was amusingly reminiscent of B.J.'s. The latest "real" reunion had taken place shortly after their marriage two years before, combining the wedding celebration with their 20th year since they left Korea. Today, however, Erin had some news that no one but the Hunnicutts had known theretofore--that in about seven months, the first Williamson child was to be born, and B.J. would be a grandparent.  
  
Hawkeye screamed with laughter, clapping his hands together. "I love it!" he cried. "*Grandpa* B.J.! ...Man, but that makes me feel old. I mean, look at us. Have you seen pictures of us from back in Korea, Naomi?"  
  
"A few," said Naomi.  
  
"Well, don't worry--it's those dashing men and lovely women that took care of you, not we graying-silvering-whitening-or-balding, glasses- wearing, quickly-wrinkling old coots that we're turning into, all in our later forties--that's Radar, who of course is not present--fifties, or higher still. You got loved by normal, baby-parent people."  
  
Naomi giggled, but replied sincerely, "It wouldn't have mattered."  
  
After that came Charles with his wife, Eleanor, and daughter, Clara, who was nineteen now. To the relief of Hawkeye and B.J., she had taken after her clever, down-to-earth mother much more than her pompous father, though she was very formal. She was also very intelligent, and everyone listened with interest to her accounts of college life.  
  
She was not, a bit to Charles's dismay, going to be a doctor--but he had, predictably, approved of her desire to play violin professionally. "A bit bittersweet, of course," he would murmur to Margaret when the subject came up later. "As I've said before, after the deaths of those musicians in Korea, music will always be blessing and curse together for me. But," he had continued philosophically, with his habitual pause after dragging out the word just a bit, "it's only a comfort and a happiness to her, and I can still remember the days when it was like that for me. ...Let her chase it, then. She's certainly talented enough."  
  
Next in line were the Klingers--Max, Soon-Li, and their son Paul. Naomi was very pleased to meet Soon-Li after hearing about her, but it was Klinger whom she'd wanted most to see of the family. She'd heard all the Section Eight antics that Father Mulcahy could remember on the way to New York, and thought it hysterical that he'd spent all his time trying to get out of Korea, only to end up staying there for some time afterward with Soon-Li.  
  
"I remember you!" Klinger said, grabbing her chin affectionately. "I used you to teach the nurses how to make Lebanese sarapes! You were an adorable little girl. We loved having you around. It's too bad we couldn't cut through the Army's million rolls of red tape to get you here in the first place." He looked at her carefully. "Did you really want to be a nun?"  
  
Sister Naomi nodded. "If I had always known of you, maybe I would have wanted to honor you by becoming a nurse. But I was raised by the monks, and they did not know who left me at their monastery. They were kind to me, and I felt that I had no family but that of God. So I devoted my life accordingly. I don't regret it, even now that I've seen you all. But..." --and here she looked at Maria Angelica a bit timidly-- "after knowing all of you, and seeing everything I saw on my way here, I'm not sure I want to stay in one building all my life. Other nuns have gone to serve the poor outside of convents. If I feel called to do so, I think I may do the same."  
  
Maria Angelica only smiled softly. "It may be a while yet, but it would be understandable."  
  
Just then, there came a cry at the large room's doors of "Howdy, gang!" Slowly and haltingly entered the aging Colonel Potter, accompanied by wife Mildred, who was a bit more able than he, and who led him along a bit--which the former cavalryman plainly resented just a bit, but consented to all the same. The two of them came over to Sister Naomi.  
  
"Hello, Naomi," greeted Mildred. "We're the Potters, in case you hadn't guessed."  
  
"Why, look at you," said the Colonel, taking Naomi's hand, as most of the others had done. "To think when I saw you last, you were drinking milk out of a surgical glove. We didn't think we'd ever see you again. You're quite the little lady now." He gestured to her nun's habit. "That's quite a frock, too. We weren't sure you'd like that kind of life. Do you?"  
  
"Klinger just asked me the same," replied Naomi. "I do, really I do. And I can't tell you how grateful I am that you all took care of me, and knew where to take me. It really was for the best."  
  
The Potters went to find chairs, and Naomi took a last look over the room. The only remaining figure was standing by Hawkeye. He took a step forward, but Naomi had already left her place to walk to him. She took his hands before he could react. "My name is Naomi," she said. "I know you didn't see me, but I've heard so much about you--and I thought it so kind that you wanted to adopt the boy Kim..."  
  
Trapper, who had come to New York alone, leaving his family at home, gazed back at her. He pressed his lips together and nodded a sad affirmative. "I wish it had worked out," he said after a moment. "I've watched you since you came in--you remind me of him somehow..."  
  
"You loved him, didn't you?"  
  
Trapper nodded solemnly. "As much as I've ever loved anyone. Have you heard anything about him--do you have any idea what happened to him?"  
  
Naomi dropped her eyes to the floor. "There are so many boys in Korea named Kim, and I knew so little of anything, cloistered in the monastery. I know nothing of him. I'm sorry."  
  
Trapper looked down, too. "I wish I'd been there when you were. Maybe I could have given you a better home--adopted you instead."  
  
Naomi shook her head slightly. "That's past now. And most likely, even that wouldn't have gotten me to the States--I had no knowledge of my blood relatives, and the Army would have wanted that. I am very happy to have had any life at all. I know what could have happened to me. Even in a convent, I'm still freer than I would ever have been...and now I'm in America, and if I ever want to, I can leave the convent."  
  
Trapper nodded once more, managing half a smile. The moment faded, and both suddenly looked around the room, seeming disconcerted as they remembered how many others were there.  
  
"Well, that's all the introductions, anyway," broke in Klinger. "Time for the food!"  
  
And so they ate and talked, the others filling in incidents at the hospital that had escaped the Father's memory, and asking Naomi questions about her life--past, present, and hopes for the future.  
  
At last the evening became night. "We should take a stroll through New York once the Potters decide to get to bed," Hawkeye whispered to B.J. "I know my daughters are dying to look at the buildings lit up and celebrity-watch."  
  
"It'll dazzle the heck out of Naomi, too, I'll bet. Sounds good to me," B.J. replied.  
  
Instead of replying, Hawkeye raised his voice and addressed the table at large. "All right, now! Friends, Koreans, medical men--and medical women, company clerks, children, and other life forms--lend me your ears. I have something of great interest to Naomi--something I've kept since her departure--and I think the time has come to give it back." From within his old and battered bathrobe, which he had also brought for the occasion, he drew a folded piece of yellowed, musty paper, and handed it to Naomi. Wonderingly, she unfolded it and read it--and clapped a hand over her mouth, once more close to tears.  
  
"What is it?" Klinger asked Hawkeye.  
  
It was Naomi who answered. "This must be from my mother--the note she wrote to explain her leaving me with you. 'This is my baby'..." She skimmed over the note, reading parts under her breath..." 'She is good baby...strong...beautiful. ...Please take care of her...I cannot...but..' ." She looked at Hawkeye, to Sister Maria Angelica, and around the table, then read the last words aloud. " '...But I love her.' " She couldn't speak, but the poetic eyes that Father Mulcahy had noticed spoke for her.  
  
"Hawkeye, I thought we included that note when we dropped her off at the monastery," B.J. finally said.  
  
Hawkeye shook his head. "No, I left a note that said much the same thing, though I didn't mention who we were--but I kept the original. Sentimentally, I guess, but now I can return it. And with the return of that note, Sister Naomi, I hereby dub you an official member of each of the following families: Pierce, Hunnicutt, Winchester, Klinger, Potter, Mulcahy, O'Reilly, Burns, Blake, and McIntyre--heck, and Freedman, for that matter. You're as much a part of the 4077th as anyone, and we've always considered ourselves related somehow, whether we were together or otherwise. We can't give you back your birth family, so we're giving you ten or eleven honorary ones. Congratulations."  
  
Naomi only managed a brief thank-you before she finally, inevitably did what had been building all night: she burst into tears.  
  
After that came more celebratory things--music and a bit of dancing, more talking, more joking, and dessert. Finally, as Hawkeye predicted, the Potters decided to go to their hotel room, several floors above, and turn in. Charles also declined to walk the streets of New York--some things never changed; the unspoken theory was that it was too tourist-like for a man of his bloodlines and caliber--but Clara and her mother wanted to go, and joined the throng. The group saw plenty of lit-up buildings, though no celebrities, and ended up several blocks away, filling a cafe to have final coffees and, in the children's cases, final desserts.  
  
"You'll come visit us sometime, won't you, Naomi?" asked Becky Pierce.  
  
"And us?" asked Ben Hunnicutt.  
  
"And us?" added Clara Winchester.  
  
"And us, too!" put in Paul Klinger.  
  
"And I'm sure the O'Reillys would love to see you, too--if it wasn't for a really big family thing, they would have come, Mr. O'Reilly says," Beth Pierce explained. "You'll like his house, too--he's got all the animals you could ever want, and big vegetable gardens, and flowers..."  
  
"And even Mr. Burns's house is pretty all right," cut in Benjamin John (commonly known as B.J.), her brother. "He's not *quite* so bad now as in the Army, I guess, and anyway, Mrs. Burns makes great pies."  
  
The children--well, comparative children, considering their ages-- chattered on at one big table with Naomi, who seemed very comfortable around them. The adults--also comparatively--watched her still from their own tables.  
  
"The newest child of the M*A*S*H gang," observed Sister Maria Angelica. "You'll have her completely torn between convent and Crabapple Cove, Hawkeye, if your children keep at it much longer."  
  
"Yeah, really--some night she'll turn up on my doorstep, demanding to meet everyone in town," Hawkeye replied. "And you'll be back at the convent, singing, 'How do you solve a problem like Na-o-mi-i-i?'" He sang the line himself, grinning mischievously as he did so.  
  
Naomi looked over at him as he sang, then excused herself from the "children's table" and came to his. "Hawkeye, I just remembered something that I've been meaning to tell you."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes. You told me earlier about all the last goodbyes I got, the things you all said before I was given to the monks--and yours ended 'be happy', didn't it?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Maybe I remembered it subconsciously," Naomi said. "That's what my name means, you know. Well, the most-used definition is really 'pleasant'-- but in some interpretations, the name Naomi means 'happy'. I got that nickname in the monastery, but I didn't have to keep it. I chose to on my own."  
  
"She's right," said Father Mulcahy. "It does mean 'happy'. I'd forgotten."  
  
Hawkeye stared for a second--then began to laugh. "They all fit. Charles called you 'small one', and you're petite; B.J. called you 'angel', and you gave your life to the convent...and I didn't call you anything, but I told you to be happy...and there you are. And we didn't want to give you up, but when we did, it ended up bringing you back to us. Incredible."  
  
Father Mulcahy nodded, looking first to Naomi and then to B.J., Hawkeye, and Maria Angelica. "God does move in mysterious ways."  
  
Naomi fingered her mother's letter and nodded. She looked one more time over the scene--and the members of many of her eleven honorary families. She remembered one more thing, too--the Biblical Naomi had thought once, after most of her family died, that she would be alone and abandoned--but she ended up with Ruth, and Ruth in turn was married, and welcomed Naomi into her new family. Her name was more appropriate than she'd thought.  
  
*God does move in mysterious ways*, Father Mulcahy had said.  
  
*Amen,* Naomi thought to herself.  
  
(end) 


End file.
